


TBA

by 87Tam_the_piemaker87



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2015-12-15
Packaged: 2018-05-05 09:10:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5369726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/87Tam_the_piemaker87/pseuds/87Tam_the_piemaker87
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thranduil is found by Azog in the woods as a baby and adopted by him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Azog looked down at the tiny, blue eyed baby boy in his arms, with his delicate little pointed ears and hair that seemed white by the light of the day. He would not fit in with the clan, this gurgling thing, and if he were born of an Orc, he would be left in the woods to die. 

But when Azog looked down at him and his bright, innocent smile, he could think of nothing but fondness and love. 

He looked down to the silver band that hugged that pale wrist, and noticed a set of engravings. An intricate scrawl of symbols that the Orc could not understand, and on the back a name - 'Thranduil.'   
He, as the chief, would take this...Thranduil to his clan, and raise it as his own. 

\----

Thranduil knew from the start that he was weaker than his piers. He need only swing an axe to sustain injury. His fellow Orclings grew into broad shouldered, stocky warriors, whilst he grew fair and lithe, and curved at the waist and his lower back, and soft and almost womanly. 

His voice was soft and heavy with his passion for eloquence and literature, whilst every other was gruff, and though he was treated no differently he hated the society that surrounded him. 

It was on the dawn of his eighteenth birthday that he finally decided to confront his patriarch about it. He crept into the throne room, watching grudgingly as his feet tapped the floor and little sound followed. 

"Why so sad, little one? I can smell your discontent from here." Azog called to him from his throne. He tapped his lap in invitation and smiled.   
Thranduil climbed onto the Orc chief's lap and leaned against his chest, as if they were two parts of the same sculpture. He sighed. 

"Father, I want to talk." He said nervously, relaxing as Azog wrapped burly arm around his waist. 

"What is it?"

Thranduil looked down and surveyed the way that the Orc's body seemed to swallow him up. He looked around the empty, hostile hall of carved grey stone, through which the wind whistled something harrowing. 

"I don't like it here. I don't fit in. I never have." Azog frowned, looking down at his adopted son and tucking a lock of hair behind his pointed ear. 

"Well do you know what I think?"  
Thranduil looked up at him curiously.  
"I think you are far too lovely to fit in. I think it's wonderful that you're different from everyone else, it's refreshing."

"But -"

"But nothing. You'll stay with me tonight, and we'll forget about this whole nasty business, hmm?"

\----

So Thranduil slept in the Orc chief's bed that night, something he had not done since his childhood, and fell soundly unconscious in his arms. Until it came about that at one point, they began to spoon, with Azog's defective arm slid under his neck as a pillow and his good, strong arm protectively coiled around him. 

He awoke in that position during the night, the first thing of note to him being the delicious, firm pressure between his arse cheeks. He felt a shameful blush rise to his cheeks - it was very common for Orcs to sleep naked with their young, since they wore very little anyway - but he had never even fathomed that the thing between Azog's legs would become so rock hard against him.

It awakened something inside him, some base ache and craving for more, and he pressed himself experimentally closer to his adopted father. To his own embarrassment, a quiet, yet brazen moan passed his lips. He blushed further, but began to grind against Azog's impressive cock rythmically, imagining how it would feel to swallow the whole length within himself, how full and good it must feel. He bit his lip to avoid more moans, and was just about to reach for himself as he ground against the head of the Orc's member before a low grunt filled the air.

He froze. 

Slowly, Azog's firm, burly hand made it's way to his hip, before roughly clasping at it. Thranduil turned his head, expecting the worst, but saw that Azog was still asleep.  
"F-father?" He asked softly, as if double checking, and when he received no reply he sighed with relief and prepared himself for the Orc's unconscious plans for him. 

At first he was firmly pressed down upon the proud head of Azog's cock, not enough to penetrate but more than enough to deliver an exquisite burning pleasure. Then the cock slid between his cheeks, and then his pale thighs, where upon the Orc pulled his hips roughly towards him, as close as they could get, and began to quite swiftly thrust in and out.

Thranduil groaned wantonly, the slide of the thick and rigid length sliding between his thighs, slick with precome making him feel like a filthy whore. He wanted more of this, that much he knew. For the Orc to use him for his pleasure, to feel those rough, calloused fingertips grasp and grope at his unblemished skin hungrily, to feel that hot, rapid breath against his sensitive ears. 

He began to touch himself furiously to these thoughts, barely able to keep up with the other's thrusts. An animalistic grunt on Azog's part sent Thranduil over the edge, splattering his first ever release against the warm fur bedding and sighing with pleasure as he came down from his high. When Azog came it thrilled him all over again. There were a few initial spurts as he was slammed against the powerful body abruptly, then it continued beyond the Elf's expectations. Three or four more and the Orc's cock finally began to calm, Thranduil trailing his hand through the thick coating of pearly white, warm release between his thighs. He rubbed it everywhere, on his own softened cock, between his arse cheeks, even going so far as to lick his fingers clean, all with desparate little moans as he did so. The idea of being covered in the Orc's come had him almost hard all over again. 

Azog was such a heavy sleeper, and for this he was grateful. With a deep sigh of contentment, he settled down for sleep, before the adrenaline wore off and he saw what he had just done for what it really was. He had just found pleasure in his father's body. He was a shameful slut, and he buried his blushing head into Azog's arm as he tried to keep the disgust at bay to sleep.

\----

Azog awoke softly, feeling better rested than he had in weeks. With a content smile he watched his fair son slumber in his arms, and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead before extracting himself from between the boy's legs. It was then that he registered what he had done. He looked worriedly down beneath the covers, to find a thick string of semen attaching the head of his cock to Thranduil's thigh, and his horror only intensified when he saw the extent of his mess. 

"Thranduil." The Orc murmured urgently, gently nudging the teenager's face with his hand and hoping that he would wake up. The Elf stirred and groaned softly.

"What is it?" He mumbled, prying his eyes open and freezing at the concern in the Orc's eyes. A shameful blush rose to his cheeks as he realised the problem.

"What did I do to you last night?"   
Thranduil tried to bury his face into the pillow, only to have it seized by the Orc's strong hand. 

"What happened?"  
Again the Elf ignored the inquisition, struggling out of Azog's grip only to have his wrist pinned to the mattress. 

"What did I do?" The Orc's voice was softer now as he tried to coax the dirty secret from his son's lips. 

"Please don't be angry with me..." the Elf quivered in the other's grip.   
"I woke up and you were pressing against me with your thing...I found that I really enjoyed the feeling..." he tried to slip his face out of Azog's hand as he grew red raw and tears began to wet his eyes.   
"I'm sorry, I know you think me disgusting." 

"And then what happened?" Azog pressed, trying to mask the revulsion in his eyes as he talked to his child. 

"I started to grind against you, and...and you grabbed my hips, and you put your thing between my legs and thrust between them until we both released ourselves." By now the tears were falling freely down his porcelain cheeks.   
Azog was disgusted, yes, but not with Thranduil. Not because the boy enjoyed it, he was young an inexperienced. But because the thought of the act brought him, personally, to a new and desparate arousal. 

Now he thought about it Thranduil was a perfect mate for him, something an Orc could never be. He was small and lithe, supple and sweet and fragile. His pale complexion and his swan like curves reflected something that an Orc never could - beauty. 

Nothing made more sense to Azog at this moment in time than spreading the boy's legs and becoming one with him, and holding him to his chest after and protecting him even more fiercely from then on. He was disgusted with himself for feeling this way about his son. And he would not force that way of life upon him. With a rugged sigh he leaned to press another kiss to Thranduil's forehead, wiping the tears away with his thumb.

"I'm not upset with you. But go and get yourself dressed, hmm? Then see Bolg about your training. I'm not impressed with your skill with heavier weapons."   
Thranduil looked up at him with bleary eyes, and though he said nothing as he made his way out of the bed the message to be conveyed was passed between them. Things would not be as they were before. And deep down Azog knew that they would either unite as lovers or lose each other entirely.


	2. Training

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bolg and Thranduil train.

Days passed and Azog avoided Thranduil. He seemed to have opted for the latter option, though it struck him to the very core to do so. Every hour he spent away from his Elf his need for him grew more intense. Parts of his putrid mind began to wish that he had been conscious during their love making. He began to wish he could have memorised it, even do it again, experience the feeling of supple, silken skin against his fingertips. If he could claim Thranduil as his own, truly as his own, the boy would have no need for combat training. He would never be out of his sight, always in his arms, always his. If they became one, it would be the most spectacular coupling in history. They would fit together like a jigsaw puzzle, and it would be phenomenal. But he pushed these thoughts from his mind as best he could. 

Thranduil felt much the same. He was hurt and confused that his father would just abandon him like that. So he tried to engross himself in his training with Bolg - which was just as terrifying as ever, even more so since the young spawn had detected a change for the worse in Azog and blamed it entirely upon the Elf. 

"Get up." The Orc grunted after knocking his adopted brother to the ground for the umpteenth time.  
"Imagine if you weren't under father's protection. I would have had your head by now. As it is, he'd kill me. Don't rum yourself ragged, it's pathetic. We'll call it a day and start again tomorrow." 

Thranduil pulled - no dragged - his aching body up and sighed weakly. He was utterly surprised when the other followed him to the changing rooms. 

"Father's distant lately." He said bluntly, and before the Elf knew it he was caged between the wall and Bolg, one hand above his head and the other grasping at his chin. His heart nearly leapt from his chest.

"I don't know what you did. But you do it again and I will kill you. Is that understood?"

"I-I didn't do anything I swear..." Thranduil said brokenly, looking into Bolg's eyes to convince the other of his lie.

"You dare to lie to me, wretch?" Bolg spat. They locked eyes for a moment, fear in Thranduil's, fury in the other's as he towered over the other. He tenderly caressed his hand along the Elf's jawline, tentatively, as if curious about the boy and wished to deeply experience him. But there was anything but love in it.

He tucked a lock of hair gently behind a pointed ear, before snapping himself of his trance and diving his hand suddenly into Thranduil's trousers and undergarments.   
The Elf gasped loudly, sweetly, Bolg would have described it as, before he slapped his meaty hand over Thranduil's plush lips and cupped and grasped at the soft mounds of skin beneath his hand invasively.

If Thranduil was not so afraid, he would be aroused. If only it were Azog.

"Now what does he find so interesting about you? Why does he always pay attention to /you/?" Bolg sneered into his ear, burying his nose into the nape of the Elf's porcelain neck and inhaling to his jawline. He stopped for a moment, gathering himself, as if the closeness were overwhelming him before releasing him completely. Thranduil looked confusedly at him.

"You're just a skinny little woodland runt. Tell anyone about this and I'll gut you." He threatened, glaring at the trembling Elf before storming off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly shorter, my chapters tend to be short.   
> I hope you enjoyed it! :)


	3. Darkness in the woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil makes a new friend.

Thranduil walked through the forest silently, a sparrow resting in his palm, a butterfly perched upon his ear. He always felt like he belonged when he drifted through the woods. It was as if he was not of the world, but rather at one with it. The beat of his heart against the beat of the Earth. 

He hadn't ran away, not exactly. He'd walked, calmly, and without supplies or weapons or armour. And he hadn't told anybody, but...why should he? Azog hadn't talked to him for weeks, and Bolg was becoming very frightening, and he had no real friends. Besides, he had every intention of returning, he just didn't know when.  
So it was that he had been walking for a good few days, surviving upon what nature gave him and doing so contently. 

"What's the problem?" he asked the Sparrow softly as it nervousy skitted from side to side and began to chirp loudly. Of course he couldn't directly understand the bird, but he understood well enough the problem. The trees groaned deeply, and the forest seemed to fall darker. It always did so when dark Magic was afoot.   
Thranduil frowned softly, and nudged the sparrow to fly away and into the trees, before turning to the source of the evil. 

"What is your purpose here?" He asked as boldly as he could manage. The wood was silent, but an ominous silent, before a very deep groan sounded and plumes of black mist rose from the ground, ascending through the golden leaves and taking them with it. 

From four corners of the clearing they rose, swirling and twirling into the centre until they began to form something - something in front of him. Two armoured feet, yes, slender form, a black cloak. Tumbling ebony hair. Ivory skin and an elegant black crown.

Before him towered a man of staggering sophistication. He was lithe and without flaw, not unlike Thranduil, and had pointed ears and fierce amber eyes. Thranduil had never seen such a creature. The look on his face was frightful, so calm, so stoic, disturbingly so. Those eyes bore into his very soul, and so he could do nothing, but wait for it to speak. 

 

"Vardarion." It said finally, stepping toward Thranduil, who gasped and made to move, but found himself frozen solid. 

"Varda?" He asked softly, entranced by the other's magnificence.

"I -" a dark growl sounded from behind the visitor, though not threatening, as Thranduil knew it to be Daisy. He stepped back instinctively, watching with awe as Azog drove the warg to slash at the other, who disapperated into wisps of black smoke as soon as he was hit. 

"I've been looking for you for days!"  
Azog growled, stepping from his warg.   
\---  
Thranduil looked indignantly up at his father. 

"Well it's the first inkling of attention you've paid me for weeks, I'm hardly flattered." He said flippantly, turning from him and making to walk further into the woods. He knew full well the beast of a man would follow him. 

"You had no reason to attack that man, whoever he was. He was perfectly charming." 

"Perfectly Charming?" Azog grunted, stopping at a tree trunk before his son. 

"He was reaching for you. He was made of black smoke. He was as evil as Morgoth." He said calmly, placing a hand on Thranduil's waist to stop him from escaping and looking coolly at him.

"Now, let's go home, hmm? We'll forget you ran, feed you and get you your rest. You must be tired -"

"Go home? Why would I want to go home with you?" he asked angrily, slipping out of the Orc's grip.

"I am an Elf, I don't belong there and you know it. I've been happier here than I have been for years."  
Azog frowned deeply and followed him.

"Besides, you'll want everything to go back the way it was before, and you know that's impossible. I won't stand for your ignorance."   
The Orc studied him for a good, long moment, searching the depths of his own soul for a response.

"What do you expect me to do about it, Thranduil?" He asked softly, raising his hand to his son's face.   
Thranduil closed his eyes and nuzzled into it, sighing gratefully at the gesture of affection. 

"I want us to work past it. And if that means that we are lovers, then -" he winced as the hand retreated. 

"Lovers? Gods no. You're sick in the head Thranduil." Azog said pleadingly, as if trying to get him to see sense.

"Sick?"

"We both are. Now come on home."

"No! You'll not have me home again. I'm leaving. How could you destroy that man? I don't care what he was or how he came to be, but he was Elvish I think or at least of Elvish descent...I wanted to talk to him. I could have gone with him." He said sadly, walking to the space where the apparition formed and gently prodding the skeletal leaves with his foot. Suddenly Azog came behind him. 

"You're not leaving me." he said softly, burying his mouth into the boy's hair, far too bothered by his son to care about the demon that had appeared before him. Later they would speak of it. He would explain why the creature was bad, but presently he needed to get the Elf home and in the warmth. Thranduil sighed deeply, realising it was pointless to fight him and gazing wide eyed and wistful at the floor.

"Fine..." he said softly, figuring that there would be plenty of time to escape later.   
He walked to mount Azog's warg and waited for his father to mount behind him, all the while staring at the leaves and reflecting upon the image of beautiful amber eyes and razor sharp features of the stranger.  
\- - -   
He lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling with wide and distant eyes as he reflected upon his day. A shifting out of the corner of his eye grasped his attention, though when he looked to it's placement he saw nothing. 

"Hello?" He said softly, looking towards the empty space and sighing deeply in disappointment. 

"The Orc was brash today. Stupid. I only wished to talk to you." a voice whispered into his ear. Thranduil frowned and nodded, turning his head to try to catch his visitor.

"Oh, I know that. He means well, but he seems to think I always need protecting."

A dark chuckle resonated through the air, rumbling, vibrating through his entire body.

"Oh, little Elfling, but you do. The world is a dangerous place, with horrors in every corner. As such a beauty, you would attract a lot of powerful presences, good and bad." Thranduil tilted his head and sat up, rubbing his weary eyes. 

"And what are you? Father thinks you're evil. A demon. What should I believe?" 

Another chuckle sounded.

"Your father is an idiot. He wouldn't know real power if it impailed him in the buttocks." 

Thranduil frowned deeply.

"Don't speak of him like that. He's a good leader and a caring guardian." 

"Ah, of course. Forgive me. Here you have love and warmth. You get to sit here on your little bed of furs, in your dark, dreary cave room, and Azog cannot see how it hurts you. How you pine for the outside world. He keeps you cooped up inside for his own selfish gain. And you tell me he's a good guardian." Silence on Thranduil's part as he considered these words. 

"I could show you so much more. I could show you life and beauty, and magic. Wouldn't you love that?" The Elf sat up and rubbed his eyes again as the familiar figure began to materealise before him. 

"Well...yes, but...my father worries for me. I belong here."

"You belong with Elvenkind. With me..." the man purred, holding out his ivory hand to Thranduil's smaller one.

"Just...one night. A few hours, really."

Thranduil looked wearily down at the hand, before sliding his own into it and nodding. 

"But where will we go?" He asked softly, standing with the man.

"Back into the woods."  
\---  
Azog crept up to Thranduil's room and knocked the door as gently as he could, before opening it. A deep and severe dread overcame him when he saw the boy gone.


	4. Life

"It's beautiful..." Thranduil sighed softly, dipping his hand into the sparkling ravene before looking up at his raven haired friend. 

Melkor smiled and looked to the Elfling lovingly.  
"You're beautiful." He murmured, caressing the boy's face gently and causing him to blush. Thranduil inhaled suddenly, as if snapped out of his trance and brought back to reality. 

"Melkor, I'm afraid..." he mumbled, locking eyes with the other Elf. A moment of electricity passed between them, a deep connection as Melkor's fiery eyes bore into him, offering him safety, and bringing the other hand to his face.

"You have nothing to fear, my child." He promised with a voice thick with more wisdom and guidance than Azog could ever have offered him. Thranduil sighed gently, gasping as Melkor's hands deftly fell to the hem of his shirt.

"Come, bathe with me. Lift your arms and let me show you what being an Elf is really about." He said gently. Thranduil shook his head and froze with fear. For a moment, Melkor's eyes flashed with anger, and Thranduil retreated, but they soon returned to benevolence.

"Very well." He shrugged, removing his own clothes meticulously and folding them upon a rock. Then he stepped into the pool, with the boy trying not to oggle his well built body. He waded in waist deep, before turning to Thranduil again and reaching for his hand. 

"At least take my hand. Feel the energy the elements disperse. Elves are prone to it you know." He grinned. Thranduil bit his lip and took the hand thoughtfully. 

"Close your eyes." He did as asked, clearing his mind instinctively, and focusing upon the pulse of nature. He felt the breeze rolling over his skin, heard it, truly heard it. The trees, they creaked, as if singing a song for him.

The earth beneath his feet seemed to sound a steady drum beat, and the water - the water was radiant. It teemed with the essence of life. It glowed without him having to open his eyes to see it. It bobbed and swayed and callled to him. 

The beauty of the world and all of it's constant energy flowed into him, through the hand of this beautiful, wonderful magician. It engulfed him, to the point where he didn't notice Melkor pulling him into the pool. He didn't notice being pulled tight against the other man. He felt the water with his spare hand, he couldn't describe the ecstasy of it, the electricity of it. He felt so alive. 

When he came back to reality, his heart pounded in his chest and his breathing was laboured. His cheeks were flushed red. Melkor's eyes flashed the colour of lightning. They locked heated eyes, before Thranduil pulled him into a frantic kiss, with biting teeth and desperate to taste tongues. Melkor tore Thranduil's shirt from his stomach with rough, hungry hands and pressed him against the rocky bank of the pool, with the young Elf's long, slim legs around his waist. 

Thranduil thought that in that moment, he could not have been more aroused. He felt alive. Melkor was giving him attention, he wanted him. He grasped at /his/ skin. He pushed /him/ against the jagged rocks in an act of possession. All because he found /him/ desirable. He was giving him exactly what he wanted from Azog. 

Suddenly he felt a hot, searing pain across his cheek, and saw Melkor towering over him, with his hand raised and a fire in his eyes. 

"You dare to think of someone else when you're with me?" He growled darkly.  
Thranduil frowned deeply and tried to overcome his feeling of arousal for the other's actions to think.

"How did you-"

"I'll make sure you think of no-one else." Before Thranduil could respond he had both wrists pinned above his head and a hot, harsh mouth upon his throat. He moaned relentlessly into the air.

"I'll go gentle with you this time." Melkor snarled, moving a hand down to Thranduil's entrance and rubbing the puckered hole under the water rather firmly. 

"Nn-no!" Thranduil froze, his eyes filled with full blown panic. He had always wanted to reserve his first time for the perfect person. For -

"Very well. I don't wish to make you feel uncomfortable." Melkor said calmly. He wrapped a hand around Thranduil's rock hard, slim cock and gently began to stroke it's length, illiciting wanton gasps and moans from the blonde one's lips. 

"Perfection..." he whispered, stroking a lock of white, wet hair behind Thranduil's flushed ear and leaning to steal a kiss. He rubbed his own length in unison, delighting in the way his pretty companion writhed beneah him and panting out his own moans as a result.

He sucked his way down the delicious, flawless skin, biting gently at nipples and straining against his own hand as Thranduil's arousal practically resonated through the air. The sight of him being brought to completion surpassed this realm and reached Varda's domain of starlight. His gently furrowed brow, heavy lidded crystal eyes and flushed porcelain skin as the tension built was too much for Melkor, and it tore his orgasm from him unexpectedly as he fed off of the pleasure that release brought the younger Elf. 

He kissed him softly - his cheeks, his forehead, his plush lips, and ghosted a hand over the bruise on his neck and his cheek to heal them. Restoration was not his forte of magic, but he could do enough.   
Sighing, he allowed the boy to recover his strength before helping him up and placing his own folded black shirt around his shoulders.

"Come. Let's get you home. I'll visit you soon, I promise you." He chuckled, scooping his lover into his arms after he had dressed himself and standing, carrying him back towards the Orc stronghold.   
Thranduil looked up at him through sated, but vaguely curious eyes as he walked. 

"Who are you, Melkor?"   
He received that trademark dark laugh in response.   
"You answer your own question. I am Melkor."   
\---  
When Azog returned to Thranduil's room for the billionth time to see if he was going insane, he stopped dead to find his youngest in the deepest of sleeps upon his fur bed.   
He was unharmed, as naked as a babe and completely safe. The Orc chief didn't want to question it. He was back and that was that. He was thankful he hadn't sent patrols out yet. The boy was making him weak.


	5. Melkor's intentions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Melkor's intentions revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short chapter, there wasn't much to write but it seemed important enough for it's own chapter.  
> Hope you enjoy :)

Melkor sat upon his throne rigidly, clutching at the arms of it as he thought. This boy was not supposed to affect him so. He was going to have him, yes, but as a slave. As a thing for pleasure. To be taken and for himself. 

But he could not just take him against his will, no. Manipulation was Melkor's game, and it had been so long since he had played. He would make the child trust him.   
He would beguile him, charm him. Make himself appear gentle and fair. If he could make the child fall in love with him, it would be even sweeter to ruin that pretty body with his marks. 

But Varda it would seem, had other ideas. And she would have her child bat his gorgeous starlit eyes as a weapon against his malice, and try to change his heart. She was always the fairer one.

But he was the dark lord, the original dark lord. He would know no light in his realm other than those lovely silvery locks and that vulnerable porcelain skin writhing beneath him in his bedstead. 

If this was a battle between the Vala then so be it, but he would not be swayed by his target's innocence. He would not be swayed by Varda's forces.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it!  
> There are a couple of chapters to be added that are already written, I'm halfway through the fifth one now. Though as with my other work there's no promise of regular updates because I reach dead ends with my works sometimes and lose passion for a few weeks/months.   
> Bear with me, haha   
> :)


End file.
